Save Haven
by remesy
Summary: A mysterious green haired soldier stops by Baratie during a violent storm. He meets Sanji, a boy who is impulsive by nature. Though the two have a rough start, they build a strong bond and share intimate secrets to one another. Modern AU with humor, angst, and painful recollections.


**AN: **Okay! I took millions of years writing this and editing it, _however, _I'm finally finished. This is a long ass one-shot that is compacted with lots of emotions, angst, fluff, and friendship. I had the whole plot planned out at first, but it just did not turn like how I planned it to be. In fact, it took a whole new turn and I became frustrated with it along the way. Eventually, though it became longer than I intended, I finished it! I'm satisfied with my ending and I hope you are too.

I like to thank writer-xanthangummy for editing my first draft! She was very _very_ helpful because my first draft was full of plot holes and grammar/punctuation mistakes. I took her advice and did everything to fix it up~

I hope you guys like it. Please comment afterwards and tell me what you think!

* * *

There was only a boy around the age of twelve, a man triple the age of the boy, sheltered inside from the screeching storm. Both remained silent as they individually concentrated on their own tasks.

While the old man focused on sharpening his kitchen knives, the boy became distracted as he gazed in the direction of the window instead.

The raindrops splashed and divided against the windows, rolling and tumbling under the relentless caress of the wind. Its repetitive pitter patter were like little fingers tapping against the glass, generating a beat to a song only mother nature can create. It was steady, peaceful, and cleansing; translucent and gentle; perpetual and everlasting. It was the initial mark of spring. The boy was wholly entranced by the achromatic display of nature. Although spring was known for its exhibition of fresh greens and manifold colors, today seemed to be an exception.

The boy squinted his eyes when he saw a disturbance in center of the thick mist. A large figure was approaching; any specific details, with an exception of his visible outline, was curtained by the fog; it obscured and cloaked this stranger. In alert, he called for the old man, "Oi, old fart!" His high pitched voice punctured through the long lasted silence.

The familiar baritone-tenor voice answered with patience, "What is it eggplant?"

"There's someone coming. I think it's a customer."

The figure was approaching steadily, and with each passing second, it was becoming more discernible that it was a man. However, his features remained unknown; the weather was still too murky for anything to be distinguishable. The greyish mist acted as an over garment around his form.

The old fart snorted in disbelief. "Stop bullshitting eggplant, who would be outside in this stormy weather?"

The boy stomped his foot on the marble floor tile beneath and yelled, "Well, I'm not fucking hallucinating you old fart! I'm telling you, there_ is_ someone out there!" He directed his index finger towards the window to clarify his point. "Look!" He curled his fingers around the white window sill and plastered his forehead against the frigid glass.

In response to the boy's demands, assortments of noises were heard; a heavy sigh, a loud grunt, and resonating taps and clicks of Zeff's leather shoe and wooden peg, followed by a low grumble. "Hell, I would have never thought anyone could love my cooking _that_ much." A soft rumble of vibration was felt when the old man chuckled in mirth.

The blonde boy snorted, but remained silent otherwise.

When the sudden hollow echo of knuckles tapped on the wooden door, the two chefs instantaneously maintained an upright position to greet the mysterious customer.

Adrenaline rush, chest congestion and heavy pulsation of his heart were all caused by a sudden sense of alert. The fact that a strange man was standing in front of the restaurant in middle of a storm, _at night_, suddenly seemed uncanny and eerie. He recalled a long-forgotten memory of one evening when Zeff and he watched a horror flick to consume their remnant time and boredom_**.**_ The present situation at hand tugged that specific memory to resurface to his consciousness. Although, it had been a fond experience at the time, currently it only caused his fear to manifest, expand, and swell over his chest. The sound of his beating heart in his ears overwhelmed his thoughts.

A man with a large frame, drenched and soaked with rain water from head to toe, stood by the door. His foliage-brown T-shirt, which was presumably made out of cotton, stuck to his skin, and it accentuated and emphasized his muscular form. In his hand, he held a forest green duffel bag. And on his head, he wore an olive colored micro fleece cap. Although these clothes appeared warm when dry, it told the opposite when saturated thoroughly.

"Can I stay here for the night? I don't have any money on me right now, but I can pay later on." The stranger spoke with a peculiar accent which was rather difficult to pinpoint. And amidst his words, involuntary chatters of his teeth were quite noticeable.

Zeff nodded reassuringly as he closed the door behind the stranger.

"Oi eggplant, go fetch this man a towel."

When he spoke of the familiar nickname, the boy alertly straightened his back. He would've quarreled with the old man if the third party had not been in the same room as them. So for once, Sanji obediently listened to Zeff.

**—** **«****[=]****»** **—****«****[=]****»****—****«****[=]****»****—**

The blonde boy walked back downstairs after having to acquire the requested item from one of the towel racks. He entered the main dining room expecting the two older males engaged in a profound conversation, but became befuddled when he noticed that such wasn't the case. He put two and two together when he heard mild thumps in the kitchen and saw the stranger sitting alone, shedding away his provisions.

With great caution, the boy approached the man, while extending the dry towel in front of him. "Here."

The man curiously glanced at the boy before silently taking the towel from him. The blonde gaped in shock when the stranger revealed the color of his short choppy hair by taking off his cap.

"Your hair is green, sir" he commented as an impulse, taking no consideration to how obvious that statement would mean to the man.

The stranger disheveled and tousled his damp hair with the white towel. Then under his breath, he softly grumbled, "And your eyebrows are really weird, boy." His voice was monotonic, but Sanji could see that the man was silently laughing at him.

Sanji huffed in response to the blunt observation made, "My eyebrows are not weird! You shitty cactus-head!" Then the boysmirked in subsequent to his own clever remark.

The strangers' brows twitched, but otherwise he remained composed and stoic, professionally emotionless as if he had been trained to do so. "Well your eyebrows look like dartboards, brat." His words had a hint of venom behind them. Though his tone remained neutral, his gaze changed into a menacing one.

A shudder streaked down the boy's spine. Then he let out a sigh of relief when a familiar tone of voice grumpily called out his name commandingly, "Sanji! Come and help me, you shitty eggplant!"

"Yeah yeah, you old geezer, I'm coming, I'm coming," he grumbled in a very peeved manner.

But secretly he was eager to help out. After all, Zeff allowed him to surreptitiously observe his cooking skills while Sanji performed chores on the side. So without a second glance at the strange man with green hair, the boy strolled in the direction of the kitchen.

**—** **«****[=]****»** **—****«****[=]****»****—****«****[=]****»****—**

"You know I've heard about All Blue. It really does sound like a cook's heaven... Too bad it's not real. A mystical sea where fish from each of the seven seas gather? Heh, get real kid. That's impossible, almost as unreal as Peterpan." A clear voice rang in the profound part of his consciousness, followed by a rather exaggerated snort. "Actually, you might be better off trying to find Peterpan."

A young, familiar voice heatedly argued against the mockery, stricken with vivid anger, "No you're wrong! All Blue is real, you don't know anything!" His defense mechanism was in gear, dismissing any external opinions other than his own.

"Neither do you kid..."

The man paused as he pondered over his impending words, seemingly hesitant. It was apparent that he did not want to be the one to burst the kid's unrealistic dreams. But with an exasperated groan, he resolved to coaxing the blonde boy with appeasing words. "I know you're an aspiring chef Sanji... But let go of All Blue. It's just a myth. We were teasing you because we knew you were going to believe it, so just _l__et it go._" The tone of his last words were urging and persistent; so persuasive and certain. And it managed to crush the boy's certainty.

The scene shifted, and little by little, the older chef transformed into an old man; skin dry to the bone, appearing feeble and malnourished. "All Blue is real eggplant, don't let those fools convince you otherwise. I was out there. I've attained clues about All Blue's existence. So... If by any chance you survive, go for your dreams kid. Life is too short to live for any other passion that isn't your own." Although the man was on his last breath, his words were the most genuine; most powerful.

In the faint distance, he heard his own voice desperately calling out. "Old man? Old man? Wake up!" The young emaciated boy choked in midst of his sentence, tears threatening to leak."Please don't die yet..." His pallid fingers grasped the remaining fabric of the old man's shirt. "Help! Help! Anybody! Help! We're on this island!" His pleas grew dimmer and weaker with each word as if he was walking away from a scene.

Then a silence prolonged, until it was broken off by a certain geezer.

"We did it eggplant. Baratie is no longer a dream. It's a reality." The geezer announced with a subtle hint of glee in his eyes.

The boy's blue orbs trailed along the letters of 'Baratie' written across the turquoise restaurant. A sense of overwhelming pride swelled in his chest when he recognized the difficulties he and his old man had overcame in order for this dream to become a reality. "Old man," he began. There was a small tug at the corners of his lip. "I'm going to find All Blue..."

**—** **«****[=]****»** **—****«****[=]****»****—****«****[=]****»****—**

The luminance of the sun enveloped the room with its curtain of light, splashing its vibrant glow of red, yellow, and orange on every object in reach. And unfortunately, Sanji was within its wide range. His fingers webbed over his eyes as he squinted at the harsh glowing ray of the sun. In a trance, he intensely gazed at the single yellow splotch in middle of the white wall.

Unconsciously his hands moved to rest against his stomach, and an intense relief washed over him when he felt beyond just skin and bones.

It certainly had been awhile since he had a dream relating to _that _incident. That traumatizing event which had provoked the thought of death repeatedly in the past. He had hoped the length of time would have had an alleviating affect on his wounds, but the essence of grief spilling from his eyes clearly disproved of that former presumption. When his tears spilled, the yellow spot in front of him blurred as an aftereffect. Trying to calm himself, he meditatively breathed in and out, and released the tension that had constricted at the pit of his stomach.

"If you're awake, come downstairs. That's what your old man said."

The blonde boy jerked up in response to the stranger's gruff voice, and his eyes instantly darted to the man's shadowy figure leaning against the wooden door frame. But before making any direct eye contact, he wiped his eyes in order to remove any signs of weakness away.

"I'll be down soon."

Although that stoic tone was meant to dismiss the older man, his presence remained solidly in the room, not budging an inch from his slanted position. Sanji inquisitively glanced at the figure when a heavy silence lingered uncomfortably between them. He wondered if the man had anything else left to say.

The stranger's eyes were rather dampened with curiosity, and his lips were tightly pursed as if he was restraining any forthcoming remarks.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Sanji gruffly asked, rather impulsively, partially because he did not like the fact that the man caught him on a humiliating circumstance- and bluntly staring him down for it.

No, he did not like it at all. This man was a stranger. Not even Zeff caught him crying ever since the incident.

The stranger merely snorted in response before walking away. Sanji saw his shadow turn to the right before disappearing behind the door. The chime of his earrings and his footsteps echoed, and became gradually dimmer before they were gone.

**—** **«****[=]****»** **—****«****[=]****»****—****«****[=]****»****—**

There were no customers in the dining room because the heavy rain was still persistently pouring outside. So the blonde boy went back to his room after breakfast, to intentionally avoid any further awkward interactions with the stranger.

Currently Sanji focused on the droplets splashing and bouncing off of the red tin roof of Baratie. Something about the sound was calming and peaceful. It somehow enveloped him and took him to the focal part of his being. His subconsciousness drew forward, and his anxieties subsided to the back of his mind. A sudden awareness of his surrounding intensified; such as that light contact of his bony back touching the flat wall behind him; his hands resting comfortably on top of his knees; and air entering and leaving his lungs in a repetitious manner.

However, that moment of mental engrossment left him as fast as it came. It shattered when his concentration dissolved into thin air. It only left the boy to feel empty and disappointed in himself.

"Are you trying to meditate?"

Sanji's eyebrows slanted in a peeved manner when he noticed the man leaning against the door frame, in the same position he held this morning. "What the fu-"

The green haired man rudely cut him off in amidst of his sentence. "I was bored." Then his eyes freely roamed around the dim lighted room.

Sanji felt a bit embarrassed that the stranger was glimpsing little pieces of him by looking around the room. Although the room was plain as hell, some photographs of him and Zeff were still around- private fragment of memories that a random stranger should not be viewing. "What the hell! That doesn't mean you can come in and go out of my room as you please! You dumbass grass-head!"

The man snorted in an unrefined manner. "You're so naggy for a kid. Are you sure you're not some old man trapped in some child's body?"

"Are you sure you're not some dumbass cactus trapped in a human body?"

A flash of anger bypassed the man's features, and he made an attempt to grab the boy, who was almost half his size. "Why you little shit!" Even in the dim lighting, the outline of Sanji was rather clear, and the fact that he had blonde hair helped a great deal.

In this small confinement of a room, any attempt to escape from the bigger man was considerably futile, so it prompted the boy to fight back- like a cornered mouse would do so. Growing under a proficient martial artist had its advantages. Though he was beaten harshly on daily basis, he was also taught valuable fighting techniques that a normal kid his age would have no knowledge of. And Sanji only hoped that his raw methods would hold him up against a fully grown male. The stranger's hands swiped at empty air when Sanji managed to duck vertically beneath in the nick of time. Given this rare opportunity, the boy wasted no time to swipe his foot across the air to gain heavy momentum; and in order to keep a steady balance, his hands remained planted on the wooden floor. Adrenaline pumped in his veins, and his emotions ran wild. He felt thrilled to test out his own skills to measure out his capacity. However, in the middle of his reflexive response, his leg was caught midair; unfavorably in an undignified position too.

"Damn you! Let me go!" He called out, humiliated.

Since the man was rather tall, approximately 5'9", he was able to lift Sanji off the wooden floor completely. "You're such an annoying brat." The man commented as he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. His occupied hand, which was currently clutching the boy's ankle, was held away from his body, because the boy was thrashing like a fish out of water. "Who taught you how to fight anyways?"

Strands of his blonde hair hung freely in the air, and revealed both of the boy's clear blue eyes.

From his frustration of being so helpless, Sanji growled under his breath, "Before asking me any stupid questions, let me go first, you bastard." The boy was experiencing minor dizzy spells for being held upside down.

"Cheeky little dartboard. You shouldn't be speaking so big after losing some pathetic fight,"

Sanji snorted in disbelief, "I don't think you should be speaking too big either. You just beat me 'cause I'm smaller than you. Give me few years, and I'll be kicking your ass," he promised confidently even though he was in such a pitiable position. "Now let me down!"

The stranger clicked his tongue, but remained silent otherwise. In a languid motion, the bulky man almost glided across the room to drop Sanji. The blond boy landed head first against a fluid surface, and the weight of his body sent ripples across the waterbed.

"Annoying brat," he grumbled under his breath.

His eyes sharply glared in the direction of the larger figure. "Why are you here anyways?" His voice came out in a rather brusque manner; in an uncharacteristically uncivil way. Actually, his foul mouth was something that had been passed down from Zeff, but it was still uncharacteristic of him to be so goddamn impolite to someone whom he _just _met.

The stranger tilted his head to his right so his fingers could run through his short choppy green hair more accessibly. "I saw you meditating when I was searching for the bathrooms, and I thought that you could use some help."

He was a man with little words, Sanji could tell.

Something clicked inside the boy's head, and from that sudden realization, a tiny smile tugged at his lips. "Isn't the bathroom right across from the guest room though? Did you get lost?"

An array of emotions bypassed the man's features, but the vivid streak of scarlet emerging across the man's visage was the most amusing out of all.

"You're blushing!" Sanji tauntingly remarked as he threw his head back to laugh his ass off.

"No I'm not, you stupid kid!" He retorted. "Stop laughing. It's not that funny."

"It's pretty funny. I mean, you got lost in a straight hallway!" Sanji tittered like some schoolboy. The edges of his crescent eyes were wrinkled in a manner where it was quite patent that he was enjoying himself.

The man simply observed, awkwardly. He wondered if all children were like him; moody and annoying.

But surprisingly, though his menacing features told another story, Zoro enjoyed the sound of laughter ringing in his eardrums. It relaxed him in a way not even meditating could, and maybe that's why he stayed.

**—** **«****[=]****»** **—****«****[=]****»****—****«****[=]****»****—**

"Zo-ro, pronounce it correctly, curly brow. It's Zoro." He emphasized his own name in order to drill it profoundly into the boy's head.

With a cheeky grin and a flash of his white teeth, Sanji repeated after the man. "Ma-ri-mo." His chin rested on top of his palm comfortably, and he sat with one leg crossed over the other "Did I get it right this time?" He asked for about the billionth time that night. He clearly enjoyed every moment of this.

Zoro groaned, "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

With his large blue eyes which seemed to spill out innocence, he feigned confusion, "What do you mean? Doing what?" He even tilted his head to enlarge his melodramatic actions.

Zoro simply rolled his eyes as he leisurely leaned back. The waterbed beneath his dense weight sank lower as a result. The kid was too outrageous for him. It had been a while since he had experienced such silliness, though. It somehow felt refreshing to his mind.

"Your name is Sanji, right?" He heard the name from the old chef before, but he wasn't too sure what he had heard exactly.

"Yeah..." The boy mumbled sleepily, then widely opened his mouth to let out a yawn.

In the corner of Zoro's eyes, he was able to view the blonde boy who was in a fetal position in his overly large T-shirt. His thin arms were protectively wrapped around his legs, and his eyes were peaceably closed. In that moment, he appeared to be nothing more than a small fragile child.

Although Zoro came inside to help the boy meditate, he ended up having foolish arguments with the child. A grown man fighting with a child. It really was an idiotic concept that he followed. Yet he had to chuckle to himself at the thought of how alike Sanji was to his friends. _They would__'ve__ really hit it off, especially him and Luffy, _he thought to himself.

He picked himself up from the bed, and lightly landed on his feet, all done in a gentle motion to not disturb the boy. Then without looking back, Zoro quietly exited the room with a single thought in his head; _now,_ w_here's the bathroom?_

**—** **«****[=]****»** **—****«****[=]****»****—****«****[=]****»****—**

"Oi Luffy, stop wandering around, this is a serious matter! If we make a racket, we might really get killed. Eek.. I don't want to get killed! I think we should go back. This is really dangerous! What if the enemy ends up finding us? I think I have the "can't-get-into-this-building" disease! It's serious! I'm dying... Eck... Ergh..." In a dramatic fashion, the man plopped onto the ground. One hand clutching his chest, and the other clawing the air desperately.

And as always, everybody completely disregarded his melodramatic actions, and walked right past his 'dying' form. "Hey everyone, look!" Luffy pointed out with excitement, stretching his index finger out in front of him.

Zoro turned to see where the young fellow was pointing at, and he instantly noticed the rows and rows of heavy, and very authentic weapons laid out in front of him. From grenades to torpedoes, this place had it all. But of course, a bullet proof glass was there to shield them from any intruders. Intruders such as them. "What the hell, why are there so many?" The word 'many' was not quite accurate because the supply of weapons seemed endless, stretched out across the hall that he couldn't see an end to.

"Oi, let's get out of here. This is a very bad idea." Usopp's voice was hushed into a whisper, and he seemed shaken by fear- more than usual.

The raven haired boy, who wore his straw hat, smiled brightly with his teeth. "Come on Usopp, this is an adventure! A man's romance is his adventure, isn't that what Yasopp said?" Although sometimes he was a real pain in the ass, the way he spoke about his passion really inspired a lot of people.

The long nosed fellow, who was brown skinned, stuck his bottom lip out to visually express his uncertainty on this matter. "My dad did say that, didn't he?" His eyes traveled from his friends to the place, then repeated the action until a flash of determination passed his eyes. "Fine Luffy, but only for few minutes, then we're out of here. This place gives me the chills. I have a really bad feeling about this..." Since his sniper friend always had premonition senses everywhere they went, Zoro did not think much on them.

The three of them walked down the long hallway with caution. The fluorescent glow that emitted from the weaponry containers were almost blinding, but it was the only source of light in this pitch-black hallway, so Zoro was grateful for them.

As the two idiots ran ahead to gawk at the showcased weaponry, Zoro's sixth sense began to disrupt his senses. So he told his group, "Come on, let's keep going. I think a camera is secretly observing us."

**—** **«****[=]****»** **—****«****[=]****»****—****«****[=]****»****—**

"You can stay as long as you like, you know. I don't know what a soldier like you is doing out here, but there must be a reason, and I'm not one to pry into another man's life and his choices."

The boy's deep intuitive understanding was impressive but it clearly originated from this chef with the ridiculous braided mustache. "How did you know that I was with the army? I didn't think that it would be so obvious."

"Intuition." The chef gruffly replied. "And it seems that I was right on the mark, brat."

Zoro cracked a smile upon his visage when hearing that name-calling. "Who are you calling a brat, old man? I'm much older than the kid you own, you know."

"He ain't my kid but he is a son of mine. I don't reckon you know what I'm talking about though." Zeff loosened the blue ascot that hung around his neck with his forefinger. "That kid is different, you know." Absent of anything important to say, Zoro simply nodded in agreement. "Recently one of his teachers suggested to me that he needs to be psychoanalyzed for 'anger management.'" The old man chuckled with good humor, evidently amused. "That kid doesn't need any treatment, though, he just needs to live a life outside of this restaurant."

Zoro raised one of his eyebrows from this peculiar response. His eyes watched the old chef's movements carefully, who was raising his glass of white wine to his lips.

"I assume that you joined the army on your own, then?" The old man inquired.

Zoro wistfully stared at the alcohol bottle, really desiring to taste some 'pinot grigio,' as it was labeled. He missed that familiar burn of liquid traveling down his system in one fluid motion. Though his favorite was something with a harsher impact, like rum or vodka, wine was good too. Hell, they were all alcohol, it didn't matter the least to him as long as he tasted it.

He took his eyes away from the label when he realized that the chef just inquisitively asked him a question. "Yeah, I'm searching for a man at the moment."

When his eyes unconsciously trailed back to the wine glass, Zeff stood up with a heavy grunt. "I'll get you a glass, and I'll pretend that you're legal."

His leather shoe and the wooden peg tapped against the marble floor, and the sound reverberated and echoed against the slickly painted white walls.

**—** **«****[=]****»** **—****«****[=]****»****—****«****[=]****»****—**

"How in the hell did we get into this situation? Can anybody tell me?" The green haired swordsman angrily spoke with a sword clenched in between his teeth.

Usopp had his weapon, a green slingshot, out and ready, open to fire at any time, at any moment. He was quite the reliable guy during times like these. Even his usual cowardice disappeared without a trace from his expression, leaving only a brave man behind. "Zoro you got lost, remember?"

The boy with his straw hat delightfully laughed at the comment. "Zoro is so stupid!" He then clapped like a seal, expressing how downright hilarious this situation was for him.

"I shouldn't be hearing that from you, Luffy!" Zoro barked at him before charging in like a bull, direct and concise, with his swords ready at hand.

The male figures, who were dressed in black suits, were much wiser than those who took impulsive acts against a swordsman. They patiently waited with guns drawn, rather than panicking at the sight of Zoro. They waited with patience for their prey to come closer, which was the most authentic evidence that they were professionals- brutal killers- and not mere amateurs. And the thought of such sent a weird sensation down Zoro's gut. What was he so afraid of?

"Oi Zoro, don't just charge in!"

In his mind he saw a vision of the two heads beings cleanly and precisely cut off. His sharp blades slicing through their necks in a smooth motion as if he was cutting through the wind instead. But in his eyes, he merely saw minor cuts across their chests, shallow enough to barely draw ounces of blood. Brutality wasn't really his thing. As a swordsman, he believed in the policy of having absolute mercy against his opponents.

As the swordsman withdrew his three extravagant katanas, he venomously growled at the two men. "Now get out of my face before I sever you guys for real." He then turned away from his enemies and slowly walked back to where his friends stood, stunned.

Perhaps that was a grave mistake. Perhaps he should have followed his instincts and acted merciless instead. But that dormant demon inside him did not make its entrance until he heard those two piercing gunshots reverberating in his eardrums.

All of his sanity and reason became lost when the two bullets ran straight through his friends' heads.

**—** **«****[=]****»** **—****«****[=]****»****—****«****[=]****»****—**

Getting up at four in the morning was actually one of Sanji's routines, though he broke it at times. He found that he was much more productive in the mornings than during the nights. At nights he usually found himself wanting to relax.

Also, it gave him about an hour to experiment with his own personal recipes before Zeff awoke to make breakfast for the two of them.

In amidst of his morning daze, he traveled down the barren hallway like a zombie, swishing from side to side in an unstable manner. Although he slept more than usual, about 8 hours in total, he still felt so damn worn out and lethargic. He really longed for his morning coffee with sugar, milk, and all that jazz. Coffee was not only his energizer but also his friend, and this was his tiredness speaking for him.

He heard the sound of water running, presumably from the bathroom, but the water was not running continuously. There were occasional interceptions where the sound of the liquid became irregular and rugged. His curiosity led him closer to the bathroom door.

There stood the man with green hair, half naked. His head was sunk beneath the pool of water as though he was desperate for the liquid to sustain his life. When he eventually came above, his heavy pants filled the air. His bare chest expanded when he fervently consumed oxygen, and contracted when he slowly and evenly breathed out. The air that exhaled from the male's lips made sort of a whistling noise, which expressed how much control he had over his respiration. But to the boy, what became utmost discernible to him, were the man's eyes, and how maniacal they appeared. Hidden underneath that shade of mad, Sanji saw a hint of sadness, a sadness that could easily be mistaken as rage, hatred, resentment, and regret.

Then most unexpectedly, in Sanji's opinion, the man began to shed tears. Ever so slowly, like the dead leaves that fall in autumn, or the morning dews that collect its residue on grass; the tears came down slow and steady. They fell down his cheeks and left behind multiple streaks.

"I'm still weak..." He softly and lamentably whispered to himself before dunking his head in the pool of water once more.

When the boy heard those words, there was a sudden zap in his head. Like he was abruptly set back to reality, back to where the clock ticked ordinarily again. Confused, he quietly walked away from the scene before risking the possibility of being discovered.

He strolled down to the kitchen without making a single sound. And since he was completely awake now, he abandoned his usual routine of making himself any coffee.

In the profound crack of his consciousness, a memory of Zeff angrily growling him an advice suddenly came into his head."Brat, being a man is about shedding tears now and then. Now piss off."

Strangely Zeff's words suddenly made all the sense in the world at the moment.

Sanji had no idea why he was recalling this all so out of the blue. But it had to do with that damn green marimo and those tears of his. Everybody cried. Some cried for broader reasons than others, but crying was an action that was comprehended universally, much like every other set of human emotions. For some reason though, Sanji was keenly aware that there were more to the man's tears than those of an average person.

Zeff's voice intelligibly rang, disrupting the boy's train of thought with his grouchy tone of voice once again. "Listen eggplant, I'll let you on a little secret. By exchanging blows with someone, you can almost map out their entire life. Do you get me?" Of course he had mechanically answered no to the old fart at the time. But only because he was as stubborn as a mule.

He didn't exactly 'exchange blows' with Zoro, so he wasn't able to wholly grasp what Zeff had meant. But certain matters did become more lucid after that short encounter between the two of them.

For someone his size and age, Sanji was a boy who exceeded in his combat abilities. Not only was he able to fend off someone his age, but one much older and robust as well. So the sole fact that Zoro was able to withstand his attack was quite significant.

In conclusion, Zoro was someone who was formidable. Not someone who was weak.

So it brought him back to his former question; one that concerned him the most: Why was he crying?

**—** **«****[=]****»** **—****«****[=]****»****—****«****[=]****»****—**

It was his third day in this hospitable environment; hospitable in a very unusual way of course.

The old cook sometimes insulted him, but also treated him like a son of his. And since he never actually had a fatherly figure in his life, the effort was quite endearing.

Sanji acted like a brother? No. That wasn't the correct label. He acted like a nemesis, a rival. He always had this tough facade on around Zoro, and constantly tried to pick a fight with him. Though Zoro wasn't much better. He always took the bait and argued with the little brat, a brat who was almost half his size. Luffy and Usopp would've laughed at him for that.

The storm had already passed by, but its remnants persisted on pouring, not that Zoro minded. Clandestinely he wanted to resume his stay here; he wanted to proceed arguing with that blonde brat during the days and share his stories with the grumpy old man during the nights. This average routine was somewhat intoxicating. This safe environment felt tranquil and placatory. If this moment represented him on a rowboat in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, he would be able to take a nap without worrying about a storm coming.

His opinions were biased though, as someone who had encountered countless near death experiences in the past, and suffered demise of numerous people who had once casually interacted with him.

He felt as though he had enough with these small side adventures and experiences that jeopardized his life.

Then Zoro laughed to himself. What the hell was he thinking about? Luffy would've kicked his ass all the way to the borders of Mexico if he had heard anything along those lines. That little guy valued adventure more than anything, perhaps even more than his straw hat. And that straw hat meant the world to him.

As he traveled down the white staircase that had been designed to wrap itself around a cylindrical pole that stood in the middle of the moresophisticated lower level of the restaurant, he smelt a delicious fragrance in the air. Though he was quite unsure, there was a hint of cinnamon and presumably some type of meat.

When he entered the spotless kitchen that was unexpectedly larger than what he had first anticipated, he immediately spotted the blonde boy handling a frying pan with incredible professionalism. He was wearing a white chefs uniform, minus the tall, round, pleated, starched white hat that Zeff usually wore.

"Oi curlycue," he called out to the boy, smirking.

Oddly, the blonde turned around warily as though he was expecting someone else. There was this peculiar look in his eyes that spelled out caution, which sent a very weird feeling down Zoro's gut. He was a man of instincts and sixth senses; he knew when certain situations were off the norm. But he did not bother commenting on this oddity, because he believed in the ebb and flow of fate. If it was that important, the boy would soon blurt it out all on his own.

"Hey marimo. Your breakfast is downstairs, you know." The boy's words hinted at dismissal. His gaze turned coldly away from where Zoro stood, then his hands became busy with cooking utensils.

The green haired man didn't even bother with shifting from where he stood. He distinctly did not enjoy how Sanji brushed him off like that. Whatever thing that was bothering the brat was clearly affecting him pretty notably. "Oi, curly cook. What's got your panties in a bunch?" He asked rather more impudently than intended.

Sanji's young eyes were fixed back on him, but they were not as childlike as they should have been. "Panties," he mumbled underneath his breath quietly.

"What?"

The boy irritably crossed his arms as he sighed out in a frustrated manner. "Idiot, if you want to ask someone what's wrong, you shouldn't say 'what's got your panties in a bunch.' That's so barbaric. It's like you somehow survived the Stone Age and ended up in the modern times."

Zoro was wrong. This brat was the brattiest of all brats. And even now, the way he shook his head and clicked his tongue repetitively as though he was dealing with some neanderthal was peeving the hell out of him. He tried to remind himself that he was talking to a kid, a boy who was nine years younger than him.

So sedately, like a mature adult would, he asked. "Fine, what's wrong, curly?"

"You. You're the problem here." In his eyes, there was no hint of sarcasm.

Young ones are always so serious when they intend to be. They are always so straight forward and blunt. To Zoro, their mannerisms resemble katanas; penetrating, precise, and 's why he only had his silence to reciprocate the boy's emotions with.

"I don't get it." The boy's body easily led to a slight pirouette of his feet, which led to a series of squeaks and broken sounds of his steps. "What is it with you?" He inquired with dramatic and neurotic hand gestures.

Zoro internally twitched, and possibly visibly too. _What is with this kid and his movie lines? _He silently wondered to himself. He ruffled his choppy green hair with the tip of his fingers, as a clear indicator that he felt uncomfortable and had nothing left to say. But since the brat was demanding some form of an answer, he mustered up to say, "Uh."

"Eggplant, get your shitty panini-ass down here and greet the customers." Zeff summoned the boy with his commanding tone of voice. Although his voice boomed from where the main restaurant was, it was still heard loud and clear.

Sanji groaned out loud in response.

Then, he hastily flashed another one of his curious gaze in the direction of where Zoro stood. "So, are you going to finish what you were about to say, marimo?" He asked in this bossy and persistent tone, with his arms crossed over his chest. But all the green haired man could think about was how, under the luminescent kitchen bulb, his curly eyebrow was really easy to make out.

He felt the impatience practically radiating off of this kid. So, it encouraged him to deliberately speak slower and lengthier, to frustrate the brat even further. "I am Zo-ro. Maybe your ears don't function too well because you keep saying marimo instead, but I assure you it's Zo-ro." He leisurely leaned back against the polished white door frame as he crossed his arms over his muscled chest. On his face, a mocking grin emerged as an indicator of a well executed revenge.

The blonde frowned. His young face scrunched up into multiple lines and wrinkles.

His two hands went behind his back to untangle the knot of his apron. "I will get back to you, you damn seaweed." He warned the man by using his index and middle fingers, doing the 'I'm watching you' hand gesture that was supposed to be a warning of some sort. "After I tend to the customers, since we still don't have any workers here." He lowly mumbled. "No one wants to work here because they're all scared of Zeff."

Now that Zoro thought about it; it was rather odd that only an old man and a kid ran a restaurant all on their own... not that there had been any customers to attend to until now.

"Come with me grass, eat the breakfast I made. Though, you could probably photosynthesize, and use the light energy from the sun." He remarked tauntingly, while bursting with a fitful laughter.

This kid was way too clever with these jokes. Where the hell was he getting such colorful remarks? Zoro scowled, knitted his eyebrows together, and to form a quick-witted response; to compete with Sanji, he said, "You got an eyebrow that matches a question mark, and I think we both know who wins this."

The pairs of feet began to travel down the shallow steps, heading into the dining room where Zeff peevishly awaited for them.

But before attending to the customers, Sanji turned his head around one hundred and eighty degrees to meet the man's eyes, with a slight curl of the mouth. "Since plants like you need water, I'll get you a drink. And the last point goes to me." He spoke of all of this way too quickly, giving no chance for Zoro to even consider responding.

The boy disappeared from his side to pour some wine into a woman's cup.

He seemed awfully too charming for a child, casually stroking the woman's hands like that, and then ignoring the husband's warning glares afterwards.

Maybe he would grow up to be a skirt chaser?

**—** **«****[=]****»** **—****«****[=]****»****—****«****[=]****»****—**

As the drizzling day patiently droned into the night, the voices in the dining room slowly faded away.

The customers eventually left the restaurant with satisfied expressions and stomachs, the majority thinking to themselves how interesting and odd the staff were. A green haired waiter who brusquely growled at his customers, a young boy with unique eyebrows snarling at him, then an old chef barking orders for them to get back to work. A strange trio indeed. But the magnificent food the chef served was enough of a distraction for them to ignore all of those disturbances.

"Here, marimo." The boy handed a clean plate to his right, and Zoro took it without a word.

"Oi." Another one.

"Marimo," he melodically sang the nickname this time, while handing a washed cup.

Sanji began to hum to himself as he placed multiple types of utensils beneath the running water. "Here you go, Zoro."

Zoro lowly grumbled, "You don't have to warn me every time, you know." With the soft material that absorbed liquid like a sponge in his hands, he gently wiped the utensils, then correctly placed them inside the drawers.

Sanji turned the faucet off, then dried his hands on the towel that hung perpendicularly next to the sink. He grinned at the man; his grin was not as bright as Luffy's, but still very much childlike. It surprisingly revealed that young side of him. Though he cussed regularly, and took deliberate puffs from cigarettes in front of Zeff's eyes, he was still an adolescent who had not seen much of the world, and so very much rebellious.

Subsequent to the grin, Sanji turned his back on the man, then returned to his kitchen chores.

Sometimes life works in comical ways. Zoro would've never imagined himself as a waiter, taking other people's orders like that. The customers were so peeving that Zoro wanted to punch some of their faces in.

At one point this afternoon, an old hag asked him, "Why do you keep on frowning. Smile! I'm paying you money for your smiles, not for your frowns!" She wore a plum dress that gave off an overly prestigious vibe, and her smile was fake, quite like what she demanded from him. She even shook her matching colored wallet in his face as though money was the only thing he cared about.

He didn't argue with her though, because he felt that there was no need to.

Zoro simply flashed her a sarcastic smirk, then walked away without taking the wad of cash she impatiently waved around in front of him. He was infuriated. But he also knew that she wasn't worth his time. Luffy once taught him the value of an enemy; about how some people just aren't worth fighting back against.

And by thinking about the man he formerly respected, tears pathetically welled up in his eyes once more.

"Oi Zoro, we're done here. You can-" The boy abruptly cut off.

The boy saw it. How could he not? They stood in a bright room, and above them was an incandescent glow from a light bulb. Even the tiniest glimmer of liquid could catch one's eyes. But the boy played it off just like how he did yesterday morning.

Sanji let out a nervous laugh before stringing his words together to form an intelligible sentence. "You should sleep. You're probably leaving tomorrow, right? Since the storm is lifting..." Then an uncomfortable silence prolonged as the two male figures tried to avoid each others' eyes. But the quiet atmosphere shattered when Sanji sighed."You can come back any time, you know." He nervously scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, you were one helluva son of a bitch who broke dishes a lot, but you will be missed. To do other chores, of course."

In his trance-like state, Zoro surprisingly glanced at the blonde. "Uh, sure, blondie."

He wondered to himself. Can friendships actually form without any sort of communication constantly taking place? The very thought stunned himself. The word friendship had almost been taboo in his vocabulary ever since the incident with his closest friends. But he brought it back, and with someone completely unexpected.

Zoro didn't really have a reason; he had always been an instinctual fellow after all. But he decided that all the factors were correctly in line; the time, the situation, and the person to tell; and that was enough to elucidate the reasons behind his melancholy. "Those tears were for my fallen friends," he told Sanji. Maybe it was partially pride, because he wouldn't have lived up to the shame of knowing that he had walked away cowardly without explaining himself. But whatever it was, the beans were already spilled, and there was no going back on his decision.

As foreseen, Sanji appeared truly dumbfounded. His mouth opened then closed like a fish without making a sound. His bottom lip drew forward, then the skin between his eyebrows crinkled. "Why are you telling me this?" He whispered, appearing confoundedly starstruck.

Why was he? He had no clue himself. But for some weird rationale, he felt as though the boy deserved to know. "I just felt like it. You got a problem with that?" Zoro snapped edgily and impetuously.

The boy's eyes remained affixed on him. His gaze was so piercing that it felt like he was staring into the depths of his soul. Quite the incommodious thought that caused Zoro to fidget.

"Oi, Zoro." Sanji breathed out, closing up on him. His eyes hesitantly flickered to the ground before he spoke again. His hands that were unusually calloused for a boy his age reached out to grasp Zoro's navy blue tank top. "I'm sorry. I can't really relate that well because I never had close friends of my own, but I do know that you're still in pain over it." His fingers fondled with the silky fabric of his shirt. He seemed to be having a very difficult time conveying his emotions. "Here, I know what will make you feel better."

The boy abandoned his apron on the kitchen counter, then headed for the wooden cabinets. Underneath the drawer that held all the utensils, he pulled out a bottle of whiskey. With that juvenile grin of his, he brought it over to the table, then placed it on the table with a heavy bang. "This will do." If that wasn't bad enough, his fingers stickily reached inside his pockets to pull out a cigarette.

Zoro would've objected to the boy's actions in honor of the old man's generosity, but the whiskey seemed rather distracting. He could almost taste the damn liquid sliding down his throat, leaving an aftertaste that most people loathed but he loved.

"No one drinks heavy alcohol here anyways. It's just been sitting in the kitchen cabinet for the longest time. I hope you're a drinker." Sanji took a heavy puff from his cigarette, then lightly coughed afterwards.

"More of a drinker than you a smoker," Zoro said as he gripped the neck of the glass bottle. He then brought the aperture of this fine whiskey closer to his lips.

For few seconds the room remained comfortably silent. The only noises heard were Sanji inhaling a few wisps of smoke and Zoro gulping down the heavy liquor hungrily. The elaborately shaped clock on the wall pointed five after twelve, and Zoro assumed that the old man had already headed to bed.

Though Zoro was at total ease with this tranquility, it was quite lucid that Sanji was not. Occasionally his face would twitch as if he was racking his brain to think of a topic to converse with.

"So... Tell me about your friends." The boy inquired in a rather composed and indifferent manner, leaning back against the white chair, while blowing out wisps smoke with his puckered lips. His mannerism had flipped around one hundred and eighty degrees, and Zoro had to chuckle to himself for that.

"What's so funny?" Sanji asked, frowning, breaking his composure.

Zoro shook his head, "Nothing." And before the boy could flip out, he responded to the initial conversation starter. "I had two complete dumbasses for friends; one was a dreamer and the other one was a liar. And at first glance you wouldn't think much of them, but they _really_ were something." He smirked around the edges of the bottle before taking a gulp again. "To be honest, I would've died for them if I could have."

"Me too." Sanji quickly added on, but when he met Zoro's confused gaze, he revised his previous comment. "I would die for Zeff any day, I mean. He saved my life, you know." His well trimmed cuticles anxiously tapped against the surface of the table.

"Oh, how? Pushed you out of the way of a speeding truck or something?" He asked harmlessly, suddenly recalling the old man's disabled leg. And based upon the two blondes' personalities, chivalrousness was an obvious character trait that they shared.

Sanji took a profound breath from the stick he held between his lips before he dismissed the assumption made by the man. "Nah. The old fart would've been able to save the rest of him with me if that had been the case. Our story is kind of more complicated, and pretty damn long." His expression remained indifferent, making it harder for Zoro to decipher his true emotions.

"I got a whole bottle to finish. I think we got time."

The boy glanced at the whiskey bottle Zoro inferred to, then gawked at the amount the man was willing to finish. So like the brat he was, he snorted out loud, "Have fun killing yourself."

Zoro rolled his eyes rather dramatically, which was a terrible bratty habit he acquired from Sanji. But only because he heard this "alcohol is going to kill you" crap multitude of times in the past, and not once did any of those comments manage to faze him in any way. He enjoyed alcohol, not much the aftereffect, but rather the taste. And he would be damned to give up something he loved to lengthen his time on earth. That would be downright idiotic.

He had accepted death for awhile now. But only misfortunes of his own, never anybody else's.

"But, oh well, I shouldn't be speaking. I'm the one puffing up cancer sticks all day." The boy grinned in a good-natured manner. His steady and intense gaze followed up the smoke rising to the ceiling.

Since Zoro wasn't one to break his stoic countenance, and tear apart that perfect composure he managed to build up as a swordsman, he apathetically asked, "So are you going to start talking, or should I leave the room first?"

Sanji inhaled then exhaled sharply. "I guess I'll tell you." He squinted his eyes a bit as though he was flipping through his memories like an encyclopedia. His next words came out in a slow and an articulated manner. "Few years ago, I used to work for this cruise ship because I needed a job back then. My parents are another story, so let me just say that I was all on my own. But anyways, the ship went out during a storm one night. A gang of dumbasses thought it was a good idea to take some hostages while the ship was sinking. And Zeff just happened to be their leader."

Zoro was rather shocked. Sure, the old man seemed vicious to a certain extent, but to go far as to injure random civilians in order to take their money? It didn't sound like him at all.

"When we first met, I attacked him with a kitchen knife. But now, looking back, it was a really _really_ stupid move. He kicked my ass all the way across deck, but since my luck was shit that day, I fell straight into the ocean. The next thing I remember is waking up on a rock in the middle of nowhere. The only other person on that deserted rock was Zeff, and I hated his guts back then. I even had thoughts about killing him many times." Sanji nodded to himself before continuing. "The next part I'll summarize, because it's not really pleasant for me to talk about." Zoro swore that the boy's voice hitched a bit, but he decidedly disregarded that little fact.

Sanji sighed profoundly and wearily, battered like an old man who has lived his life longer than intended. The sigh had more weight than a boy of his size should have been able to manage. He replaced his scorched cigarette with a new one before proceeding with the story.

"We shared a portion of food. He gave me the smaller bag saying that I was a child and that he was an adult, so it was only fair. Man, I hated his fucking guts back then. We took the opposite sides of the rock to see if a ship would rescue us. At first I felt cocky because it wasn't a big deal to me. I didn't see this as a life and death situation; I thought of this as one of those shitty weekends that I would eventually get over with. But you know, it wasn't that easy. We were on that rock for a good 85 days before anybody came to rescue us. I only had food for about two weeks. It's a good thing that I was smart enough to make that about seven."

"What about Zeff? He had more food, right?" Zoro felt obscurely drawn into the story- more than he had first expected.

"That's the thing. He didn't save my life just once, but twice. By the time I was finished with my food, I was crazed from hunger. I was thinking of killing him to steal his food. But when I opened up that bag of his, I realized that he never had any food from the start. Inside that bag, there was only money and jewelry. Not a single piece of bread or anything."

Zoro's throat clogged up from an abrupt realization. An assumption that was presumably Sanji's reality. "Zeff ate his own leg for survival." He stated as a confirmation.

A hint of melancholy crossed his oceanic orbs before he dropped his gaze. Sanji nodded slightly. "Yeah. That shitty old fart was a savate master, you know. They say all great martial artists heard of him at least once in their lives. I don't know exactly why he attacked the ship that day, but he threw away his life to save me. And that is enough for me to devote my whole entire life to a dream we both share."

Inquisitively, Zoro asked, "What dream?"

Sanji took a heavy intake of air, then steadily breathed out each word. "Have you ever heard of All Blue?"

"Nope."

There was a burst of enthusiasm in his eyes. One a loving husband would have at the mention of his wife; one an appreciative artist would have when viewing a spectacular painting; or one a dreamer would have when telling others of his hopes and dreams. Sanji childishly grinned, and his eyes widened with jittery excitement. "Well, it's a paradise for all chefs!" He exclaimed merrily. His face came fairly close to Zoro's own, but then pulled back once more to lean comfortably against the spine of his chair.

Appearing calm once more, but still seemingly happy, he cleared his throat. "Ahem...I'll tell you all about it... Mine and Zeff''s dream... All Blue..."

**—** **«****[=]****»** **—****«****[=]****»****—****«****[=]****»****—**

A meadow.

Surrounding him, he saw an endless field of green, gold, pale yellow, and other variety of natural colors.

There were two figures standing ahead; but unfortunately, their outlines were hardly visible. The light that emitted off the sun seemed to be at an exact angle where it obstructed Zoro's vision. However, he heard those obnoxious yet familiar adjoined laughter; and a small tug pulled at his chest.

A very familiar voice scolded him. "You're late, Zoro." His outrageously long nose poked Zoro's own despite the fact that their faces weren't at such close proximities; but even so, usual cases as these, Zoro would pushed him away by now. But at the very moment, he wanted to pull the younger man into a tight hug.

"Don't make fun of him. He probably got lost." The boy with the straw hat laughed, flashing his teeth from ear to ear.

Letters, words, sentences- they all seemed to have gotten lost its way as well,

"Oi, marimo," Another voice grouched, but behind him this time.

Zoro whipped his head around to meet those familiar set of eyes. Those dumb old curly brows that were a unique set of distinction that separated this specific blonde from any others. But the person Zoro was seeing at the moment wasn't quite the little boy he remembered. Instead, it was a grown man; with long legs, muscular arms, and masculine features. He even had a bit of a chin hair going on there. "Are you Sanji?" He asked in this husky tone that was hardly unrecognizable even with his own ears.

As expected, a snort with a voice full of mockery followed "Are you drunk, marimo?" Sanji asked with a slight chuckle.

Zoro pinched the bridge of his nose, the heavy tension that rested in between his eyes. "Maybe I am." Or maybe he was on drugs. Who knows.

Sanji turned away while lighting up a cigarette. In his well tailored black suit, with a striped tie and a long-sleeved, blue buttoned up shirt, he appeared tall and lean. The silky strands of his blonde hair, often disheveled by the playful wind, always managed to return to its previous state. And in a manner of sophistication, he stepped over the grass, heading in the direction of the sea. Zoro began to follow, with Luffy and Usopp by his side. Strangely, they were lively as ever. And the question that had been probing his brain disappeared for a short while, because he couldn't possibly ruin the good atmosphere.

It had been far too long since he felt this much tranquility.

When his foot hit the deck, he wondered why he was suddenly on a ship. But he quickly discarded that thought.

"Zoro! You finally woke up!" A woman with orange-red hair exclaimed out loud, taking over the leadership by leading the four of them into the kitchen where others were.

A heavy feeling of deja vu played a symphony in his heart. These mysterious faces were beginning to click in his brain. Those misplaced puzzle pieces that had been lost before were starting to find its way to make sense in his head. This ship, these people, and the adventures they all shared; these memories instantly replaced any other life he thought he had. A light grin tugged at his lips, and he couldn't help but to let out a relieved chuckle. "Yo." Zoro greeted the rest of the crew with that rare smile of his.

Then right above his ass, a foot propelled him forward, causing Zoro to almost lose his balance. "Shitty cook!" The swordsman hissed out venomously, impulsively reaching for the swords that rested at his hips.

The cook had a smirk on his shitty face. A rather inviting smirk that always manages to push Zoro off the edge of his composure. "Sit the fuck down, or no booze for you." Sanji ordered with a flick of his index finger, pointing at the empty chair that was in between Luffy and Usopp.

When Zoro took a seat, almost instantaneously, the group broke out into several pieces of conversations. Zoro took turns in between fighting for his food from Luffy and holding a casual conversation with the group.

This life felt great. Although half the times his neck was in danger, the thrill he acquired from passionately chasing after his dreams felt so great. Having a fatherly figure back in East Blue was great. Having a crew that acted as his family and friends; each and one of them willing to die for one another because of an unspoken bond that tied them as a family felt great. Hell, if he had the chance, _he_ would drop everything for them all to continue their journey even just for another day.

So, profoundly, in the depths of his heart, he knew that there was another world waiting for him. One that was much more mundane and agonizing. But even so, he knew he had to pull through. The single life he had been given, it would be a waste to not make the most out of it. For the time being though, he wanted to enjoy _this_ reality that was set out for him.

**—** **«****[=]****»** **—****«****[=]****»****—****«****[=]****»****—**

Into his duffel bag, he shoved in whatever he tossed out few nights before. It wasn't much. Few T-shirts here and there, his folded uniform, a straw hat, and a small pistol at the pit bottom of his bag. Nothing unusual.

The only unusual things were his most prized possessions. They were spread out on his bed in their magnificently sheathed forms, each and one of them having a past of their own, carefully designed by blacksmiths to be weapons of destruction. The thing was, Zoro preferred katanas over any other weapons. An old rival of his passed down one of the katana to him, and since he preferred using three swords all at once, it eventually became a part of him. The katanas' aesthetic beauty of their carefully structured forms were a plus.

"If you're going to miss me, you should just tell me instead of creeping up like that." Zoro lightly chuckled under his breath, and his Adam's apple vibrated as a result. He could feel someone standing close to him, and that someone could be none other than Sanji.

"No one's going to miss an idiot like you..." The boy loudly clicked his tongue. "But, you can stick around. We could use all the extra help around here..." He sharply inhaled. "I mean, Zeff brought it up because the restaurant is getting busier and busier. And I could teach you how to cook, and you can either become a waiter or a chef. The business is going up so he could pay you regularly, and you won't have to go back to wherever you came from-" He cut off short as though he abruptly realized how ridiculous he sounded. "But you don't have to..."

The swordsman had nothing left to say. He simply continued to pack his provisions into his duffel bag, but much neater this time. "Save the sentimental crap, swirly. I'm not dying. I'm coming back, you know. Don't put me in the 'never seeing' list already." He swung his hand back and forth in a casting away motion. "Hate to say it, but I'm kind of attached to this place. And free food is always good." He flashed a wide grin towards the boy, revealing his teeth.

The boy had a stumbled look, but snapped out of it quickly, masquerading his appearance with a stoic look once more. "Who says you're getting free food next time?" He snorted.

Zoro snorted as well. "Cheap ass cooks," he murmured, barely audibly.

"Hey I heard that," the boy fumed, but slightly sounding amused nonetheless.

The man threw his forest green duffel bag over his shoulders. It was rather light. Then he re-adjusted his green micro fleece cap on his head, concealing the color of his hair as a result.

As he passed by the boy, impulsively, he ruffled those perfectly combed strands of hair that rested neatly on top of one another. And expectantly, Sanji growled, "Hey, stop messing up my hair, you dumb marimo."

Just maybe, quite possibly, he will miss those sharp retorts. Those venomous words with no actual bite behind them. Just maybe, quite possibly, he will miss arguing and stroking the boy's short temper. He'll miss those sentimental comments that shortly turn into defensive childish remarks. And as much as he'd like to stay and watch the boy polish his fighting skills as well as his cooking skills, he had his own dreams to fulfill; one that was for this reality and not for the other.

So he left.

Beforehand, he thanked Zeff for his hospitality. But the old man must have felt embarrassed, because he angrily conked on top of Zoro's head with his wooden leg, yelling, "Just get out of here, shitty grass-head." And though the abuse was rather... abusive, Zoro's fighting spirit dispersed when Zeff told him, "Don't you catch a cold out there, you hear?"

The swordsman traveled with a light duffel bag hanging on his shoulder, revolving his thoughts around two cooks who had been so infinitely generous to him.

He walked the pavement, his destination the opposite from where he was supposed to be. He walked away from all the responsibilities a soldier was supposed to have because a blonde boy once told him about his own dreams. Somehow, Sanji had picked up the shattered pieces of the man's passion then glued them back together, insisting that dreams are what makes life worth living. And for the first time ever since his friends' deaths, the swordsman felt relieved. He knew those two had no regrets, and would've been proud to have died a warrior's death. And it was time for him, the living, to move on without any regrets and make the most of his life as well.

Though it was a silly way of honoring his friend, he believed Luffy would've wished this. So he picked up the straw hat from his bag then placed it on his head. In his place, Zoro wanted to return this valuable treasure back to Shanks.

The swordsman walked, away from his so-called fate, going on an adventure to search for the greatest swordsman and a hero who inspired his friend to be a great man.

The straw hat shaded his face, but his smile was as visible as, well, the road ahead of him- quite vague and unclear.

**—** **«****[=]****»** **—****«****[=]****»****—****«****[=]****»****—**

"Do you see this?" That crooked nose of his. "There's a fucking bug in it." Those bulging eyes, "Did you make this?" That uneven jawline.

The waiter gritted his teeth, containing his composure for the dashing lady's sake. "Yes."

The corners of the bastard's lips curled as he glanced at the woman he brought as his date, "As a renowned food critic, I will write a review that the food here tasted terrible, and the restaurant itself has filthy insects crawling everywhere."

While the bastard laughed like a maniac, anger washed over Sanji's senses and his composure. And it's never a good thing for a short tempered cook like he to lose his reasons.

"Look at this prick's face, hun. He's so scared that I'll actually do it. That's what he gets for picking a fight with a powerful man like myself." The bastard picked up the bowl of soup that had the tiniest insect inside it and poured it all out onto the marble floor. Then he begun to reach for the wine bottle that was a bit far from his reach.

In one quick fluid motion, the waiter's leg cleaved the table into two pieces, jamming the man's fingers as a result. The dumb bastard let out a cry of pain and exposed a look of shock and fear. The woman gasped as she pulled away from the table, drawing her hands back as an instinct. The whole restaurant became silent, and all eyes rested of this scene.

However, the waiter did not give any flying fucks.

His hands roughly grabbed the collar of the man's shirt, then lifted him off the ground. And in a deadly tone, he dropped his voice so low that only the bastard could hear him. "I guess I would have to kill you then, you damn rat." The waiter bared his teeth like a wild predator.

All the colors drained out of the man's face, and his already bulging eyes bulged even further. He had this stricken look of fear in his eyes. The sight would've been hilarious if Sanji had not been furious. "Guwah..." The bastard began to choke on his words. "Let me go," he gasped out.

For a millisecond the waiter thought about the 'request,' then decidedly ignored it. "You made three grave mistakes. First, you insulted my cooking. Second, you wasted food in front of my eyes. Three, you threatened to shut down this restaurant. I don't give a rat's ass who the fuck you are, but if you're threatening to close down the old man's restaurant, I won't let you out of here alive." He saw the other cooks from the corner of his eyes, and they all appeared hesitant on whether to intrude or not.

"I-I swear. I swear I won't do anything. Just let me go." With his trembling voice, the man certainly did seem like the victim here, and Sanji the bully.

The waiter contemplated over his choices. He always hated dealing with cowards, for they always begged for mercy and behaved like the victims in situations. But luckily, before he had to make a decision, something happened.

His blonde hair tousled from the wind. But realizing that he was indoors, it intrigued him to turn around. And in that moment, the very form of platitude came into play. His eyes locked into the stranger's and when he realized who the stranger was, his lungs constricted into a ball. His hands released the bastard's collar immediately, and subsequently, the man dropped onto his ass with a heavy thud. Following Sanji's hypnotized gaze, the whole restaurant turned as well.

By the entrance, there stood a ragged man with tattered clothes. He appeared homeless at a first glance, and maybe he was, but his expression was not one asking for sympathy. Sanji couldn't quite explain what was so different about the man, but there were some inexplicable changes that definitely happened to the green haired solider.

"Holy shit," was all Sanji could muster up.

The swordsman squinted his eyes in confusion, searching around for the little boy he remembered. "Cook?" He questioned aloud for everybody who were gaping to hear. And it only took him few seconds to find one of the fewest blonds in the dining room.

Then a faint smirk appeared on Zoro's face, one that was slightly malicious and playful. "Did you miss me, curlycue?" He asked while appearing so goddamn full of himself, and laxly leaning against the entrance.

"Holy shit," Sanji muttered again, quieter this time, but still loud enough for the soundless restaurant to hear.

The cowardly bastard crawled away with his golden opportunity, skittering like a roach across the marble floor, then sprinting out of the restaurant as fast as humanly possible. The woman who came as his date appeared utterly humiliated and irritated. She hid her expression with her red scarf, then walked passed the green haired man without a single word. Sanji would've given her some comfort for her shitty date if he had not much been distracted himself.

"Don't you have anything else to say other than 'holy shit'? Shitty cook?" Zoro mocked as he cocked his head to the side.

It really was an impulse because Sanji wouldn't have done it otherwise. He got this really random urge to suddenly hug the man.

In a swift motion, he grabbed the back of Zoro's neck to pull him close. And instantly, quite unexpectedly, he inhaled the scent of steel and forest green mint; Zoro's scent. The intimacy they shared in a fraction of that second expressed more than thousands of meaningless words that they could have spoken instead. Sanji's face buried into the crevice of Zoro's neck, and for a split moment, the green haired man lost his usual stoic composure.

"Wha-" His throat croaked out, within that moment of shock.

Embarrassed, Sanji pulled away, muttering, "Idiot marimo," in a low tone of voice. He could feel the heat rising up to his cheeks. And since his skin tone was porcelain-like, it was especially perceptible to see the pink tinge developing across his visage.

Someone in the room obnoxiously groaned. "Just come in already and stop acting like a couple on their first date." The old man loudly clicked his tongue, "You idiots are giving me a headache."

The cooks who were peeking from upstairs snickered among themselves, calling the blonde an idiot and all. It wasn't anything new. They always laugh when Sanji is receiving shit from the old man.

The blonde shot a nasty glance at Zeff, spitting out venomous words like some sort of a reptile, "I was _not,_ no- _we _weren't acting like a couple." It was bad enough that he fucking _embraced _the man like they were playing some dramatic scene in front of an audience. He didn't need this crap from the old man as a plus. "We were manly hugging. You know, the type _friends _do, stupid senile old man..."

"Oh, so you consider me as a friend now?" Marimo asked, interrupting the two hotheaded cooks who were in midst of a heated moment.

Sanji rolled his eyes, "Shut up," he said, pursing his lips tightly.

The old man grinned at the scene, staring at his son casually interacting with the one who became his first friend. Zoro was someone who Sanji could be fully himself with, argue with, and share profound conversations with. Though there was a great age gape in between them, they were still able to interact like two old men who had known each other all of their lives. Now that the two eggplants were finally together again, the restaurant was sure to be noisier than it already was, but for some reason Zeff was looking forward to it. Maybe he _is_ becoming senile like the brat said.

"Don't you dare call me a 'child.' I'm all grown up, can't you see?"

"No."

"Shitty marimo."

"Stop being such a child."

"I'm not being a child. _You're_ being a child. Just because you are few years older than me-"

"Nine to be exact."

"Yeah yeah, whatever. Just because you're about nine years older than me, does not mean I'm any less mature than you. I clearly have more experience in the field of women and cooking."

"I don't doubt you about the cooking part, but you seem like a virgin to me."

The restaurant had a fit after that. The chefs upstairs strolled down to give Zoro a warming welcome. The customers gradually went back to their own conversations. But Sanji simply froze in place with his mouth gaped open, appearing shocked and speechless. For once, someone had beaten his clever mouth in his own game.

Zeff had noted, ever since Sanji passed his little weeaboo stage, he had become really sensitive with the topic of sexual activities. It only took the old man few seconds to realize that Sanji would probably stay a virgin for awhile.

"Come in shitty eggplants, let's have some lunch." Zeff shifted away from the boys, but from his peripheral vision he could see that Zoro had wrapped his arm around Sanji to get him moving. And only few others could see that their head chef had the sliest smirk on his face.


End file.
